


A Beautiful Sight (you're happy tonight)

by unproductivepeanut (peanutmeg)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Klaine Advent 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutmeg/pseuds/unproductivepeanut
Summary: A friend (and a few anons via tumblr) requested I write for the challenge again this year, and who am I to so no? This is set at least a year later than "Grown Up Christmases" although that's more for my own timeline, rather than mentions. The chapters all fit within the same 'verse, although not necessarily in chronological order. Thanks to slayerkitty for her review and CAPSLOCK replies that improved my day! :)





	1. 01 - Audience

 

“So I hope you don’t mind but I got Chinese instead. I got a craving for dumplings while I was on the subway and -” Kurt stops midsentence, in the middle of placing his coat on the hook by the door.

 

Silence greets him.

 

“Blaine?”

 

Absently, Kurt grabs the bag of Chinese off the floor, crossing to set it on the kitchenette even as he looks to the living room in confusion. For the past week and half the apartment has only stood silent while he and Blaine sleep.

 

_“I thought you had Bach for your final.”_

 

_There was a slight hitch in the music, a disjointed chord before Blaine spun on the piano bench. “Kurt, you’re home!”_

 

_“I am,” Kurt dropped his bag by the sofa before joining Blaine by the piano, offering a quick kiss hello. “Now,” Kurt continued after a glance to the sheet music, “is there a reason you’re playing Handel? I seem to distinctly remember you having some choice words and vowing to never voluntarily touch ‘Messiah’ again.”_

 

_“Leah - you met her after my last recital, remember? She’s the leader of the chorale on campus - anyway, she ran into me as I was leaving the practice room today. Literally. She wasn’t looking where she was going because apparently their accompanist had to leave town for some family emergency when the Winter Showcase is in two weeks. So she was texting everyone and -”_

 

_“Let me guess,” Kurt interrupted, “my talented, wonderful husband offered his assistance?”_

 

_“She asked me, Kurt,” Blaine answered with a smile. “I mean, she apologized for the insanely short notice, but still.”_

 

_Kurt hummed in agreement and nodded toward the music. “So you’re playing Handel.”_

 

_Blaine leaned back then, briefly looking away. “Yeah. I am. The other stuff is either traditional or close enough I won’t have to practice it too much. But this…” Blaine let the sentence trail off with a shrug._

 

_“Well,” Kurt commented as he wrapped an around Blaine’s shoulder, “I guess it’s a good thing I love hearing you play.”_

 

_Blaine laughed then, looking back to Kurt. “I’m going to hold you to that. We’ll see if you still love it when you’ve heard the same sequence twenty times in a row.”_

 

Blaine hadn’t been exaggerating. Any spare time had been lost to practicing chords and runs; Kurt had even begun to feel uneasy without the constant _tic_ of the metronome after the first few days. Blaine had even apologetically cancelled their standing movie night, promising to make it up to him (he had).

 

Now, the silence grates on Kurt, has his hands clenching as he takes in their small tree, the stockings hanging off the windowsill, pressure building until he spots Blaine on the sofa.

 

“Blaine?” Kurt quickly crosses the small space, smiling when he reaches his husband and dipping to give him a quick kiss hello before dropping onto the sofa beside him. “And here I thought you only took breaks when I was around to remind you.”

 

“Hey Kurt.”

 

Kurt feels his smile freeze when he hears the two words. “What happened.” Kurt forces his voice to stay flat, calm, even as his husband’s tone has him reaching for Blaine’s hand.

 

“It’s nothing, really.”

 

“Blaine.”

 

A sigh and Kurt tightens his hold on Blaine’s fingers, feels the metal of Blaine’s wedding ring sharp against his palm. “Really,” Blaine affirms. “It’s not. I just got a text from Leah. I guess their accompanist got back today - his aunt got better, I think - so she said that she’s grateful for my help, but since he’s back she thinks it would be better for them to go back to the original plan. It makes sense, since he’s played for them before and I haven’t, and a showcase is stressful - ”

 

“It’s crap,” Kurt interrupts, not wanting to hear more of the obviously quoted words. “He left. I’m glad his aunt or whomever is better, but she _asked for you_ , Blaine. And you’ve practiced so much. You -” Kurt stops then, lets out a breath as he attempts to fight the anger rising on Blaine’s behalf. Blaine _had_ been stressed, constantly practicing to ensure his was ready despite the late notice. There had been cancelled date nights and fewer conversations and more takeout than Kurt cared to admit, but Kurt had simply reminded himself that it would be worth it to see Blaine on stage. And so Kurt had smiled when Blaine excitedly left for campus half an hour earlier than usual, listened when Blaine explained how thrilled he was to be trusted with something for the showcase.

 

Things had improved throughout their past year in New York. Blaine had settled in at NYU, but Kurt knew Blaine still fought the stigma that had accompanied his transfer: An elite NYADA student who had failed, someone who had broken down after a breakup and then left the city. And while Kurt had spoken to Madam Tibideaux, had scathingly killed any hint of the tale at varying auditions, he knew the whispers remained.

 

Blaine’s involvement in the showcase had seemed like a sign that his fellow classmates finally recognized his talent.

 

“It’s fine,” Blaine murmurs from beside him. “We’ll just start make up date nights a week earlier than we planned. And I don’t care what you say, I know you’re glad to be done with the constant noise.”

 

“It wasn’t _noise_ ,” Kurt counters, his voice strong despite its low volume. “It’s never noise when you play.”

 

“Kurt -”

 

“Play for me,” Kurt comments as he stands, the idea growing in his mind even as he  ignores Blaine’s attempt to speak. “I know it’s not the same. We don’t have a spotlight, even though you deserve to be at the center of one, but...please? Play the Showcase.” Kurt pauses and uses his position to pull Blaine to his feet. “For me?”

 

“Not all the accompaniment has the melody,” Blaine answers. “It’ll sound -

 

“It’ll sound like exactly what I want to hear. Please?” Kurt keeps his voice soft, requesting.

 

And finally Blaine’s smile turns loose, honest. “Of course. I’ll always play for you, although I don’t know why you want -”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts,as they head for the piano “just play.” And then Kurt drops Blaine’s hand, moving back to the sofa as Blaine settles on the bench.

 

“Not sitting with me?”

 

“The performer owns the stage, Blaine. You know that.”

 

A laugh and Kurt smiles as he settles back on the sofa, watches as Blaine takes a breath before his back straightens and he becomes Blaine the Performer.

 

Moments pass, and then the comfort of a familiar carol fills the apartment.

 

The songs emerge, chords effortlessly flowing as Kurt loses track of time. Snippets of alterations Kurt’s heard for the past weeks blend into their complete pieces before Kurt hears the opening measure of the final piece.

 

Of course Blaine plays Handel perfectly.

 

Kurt’s stunned to stillness for a moment after Blaine hits the final note, awe for his husband’s talent keeping him against the sofa before the spell breaks. But then Kurt’s moving, clapping in appreciation even as he reaches Blaine’s side, turning his head for a kiss.

 

“That was perfect,” Kurt murmurs. “Completely. _No one_ will play it better.”

 

“You’re biased.”

 

“I’m _right_.” Kurt answers. “I’m just sorry it was only heard by an audience of one.”

 

“I’m not,” Blaine comments. “You’re my favorite.”

  
“Your favorite audience?”

 

“That too.”

 

“Careful,” Kurt teases as he wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, “you remind me of that and I won’t want to share. I’m very selfish, you know.”

 

“Hm,” Blaine smiles, “I think I’ll take my chances. Besides, you know it doesn’t matter, right? It’s always -” Blaine stops, pauses before continuing in a voice that’s lost its tease. “I don’t care if there’s a thousand people watching; it’s always for an audience of one.”

 

Kurt knows his smile must be ridiculous, so wide the skin around his eyes has wrinkled, but he can’t bring himself to care.

 

He pulls Blaine in for a kiss instead.

 

And if later, (after the Chinese has been reheated and Blaine’s slipped away to change into his pajamas) Kurt borrows Blaine’s phone to find and copy a certain chorale leader’s email so he can attach an audio file he feels no shame.

 

Blaine deserves an audience of millions, after all.

 

Kurt already has Blaine’s music - past, present, future - and while he may be selfish, he’s prideful too: Let the others see just how lucky he is.

 

But for now, curled up on the sofa in one of Blaine’s old sweatshirts,  a small part of Kurt relishes being the sole member of Blaine’s audience.

 

And, once Blaine’s returned, his heart a steady beat beneath Kurt's ear, Kurt admits as much.

 

 

 

 


	2. 02 - Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt fought me (hence the late posting), but slayerkitty talked me down. :)

 

Blaine closes the door to the apartment quickly, leaning against it even as he feels some of the tension of the day leave his shoulders. Between preparing for final presentations and performances, and rehearsing for hours on campus, Blaine has been on campus more than home the past week.

He’d feel guilty but he knows Kurt’s schedule has been just as hectic.

Leaning against the front door with his coat on and bag still on his shoulder, Blaine fights exhaustion as he relishes the sight of the small Christmas tree in the living room and his and Kurt’s stockings hanging next to each other off the windowsill.

He smiles even as he feels a touch of longing: Their stockings may be side by side, but piles of work and conflicting schedules have left Blaine with only snippets of time with Kurt, usually scarce minutes before their bodies demand sleep.

The ache of exhaustion returns then, and Blaine heads for the kitchen.

He needs coffee.

It’s then, heading for the fridge to retrieve the bag of grounds that he sees it.

_ I miss you. :(  Late study-date dinner tonight? I promise to be home by 9. We can compare horror stories. _

_ Love you! - K _

Blaine smiles.

The whiteboard on their fridge had been an impulse buy not long after they’d moved in, a place to write last minute grocery needs and reminders for the day. But then, during their first finals week together in New York, when they’d barely seen each other despite living in the same place, the messages had changed.

Rather than reminders for coffee and eggs, there had been encouragements, reminders; idle comments mixed with the occasional doodle.

The hand written messages had brought a sense of peace not found through their countless texts.

They’d laughed about it later, Kurt commenting they should have known given their status as silly romantics.

Now, though, Blaine eyes the message with a critical eye, seeing the hints of the exhaustion in the slanted words.

Preparations for finals is wearing on Kurt, too.

Blaine stares at the message for a moment longer, picturing Kurt as he’d last seen him: Tired, hair slightly less styled an usual, but still the most beautiful person Blaine knows.

The idea comes quickly, pushing exhaustion to back of his mind.

He gives the message one last glance before turning away to start the coffee. He has work to do.

*-*-*-*

Blaine turns when he hears the key in the lock, hurrying out the kitchen just in time to see Kurt closing the door.

“Hi.”

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Good to know I’ve done my job.” Blaine comments as he moves to take Kurt’s bag, dropping it one floor beside his own while Kurt wrestles out of his coat.

“Always,” Kurt answers, and Blaine smiles before pulling him in for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you too,” Blaine murmurs as he steps back, taking Kurt’s weight when he tiredly slumps against him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“A full three minutes before I said I would be.” Kurt quips.

“Good,” Blaine takes Kurt’s hand to lead him to the living room. “You have time to change before dinner. After all, we have plans.”

“Oh yes,” Kurt teases, “the great study date of -”

Blaine stops when Kurt does.

The silence unnerves him, and Blaine briefly tightens his hold on Kurt’s hand before hurrying to explain. “Surprise?” Blaine looks at Kurt, watches his husband take in the electric candles dotting the space, the bed of blankets on the floor by the Christmas tree, the extra strand of Christmas lights Blaine had managed to haphazardly balance across the bookshelves. “I only thought of it this afternoon, after I saw your note. I know you just said dinner but -”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, “it looks wonderful, but that doesn’t -” Kurt stops again, sighs before he continues, confusion and exhaustion warring for dominance in his voice. “Why is our bed set on the sofa?”

Blaine sighs. “Because it’s your favorite blanket; it needed to be here. I figured we could have a Christmas themed movie night like when we were in high school. This time without the extra invitees and me leaving in the middle since your dad kicked me out.” Blaine huffs a laugh and nervously fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “The frozen pizza should be done in a minute, and there’s popcorn. You’ve worked so hard lately I just thought...after everything I figured we both needed a break. I’ll clean it all up tomorrow and -”

This time, Kurt stops his words with a kiss. “I love it,” he murmurs as he steps back, and Blaine doesn’t try to stop the resulting smile.

“I hoped you would.”

“But really Blaine,” Kurt teases and steps back, “pizza  _ and  _ popcorn? You’re horrible for my diet.”

Blaine smiles. “There’s ice cream in the freezer, too.”

“Of course there is,” Kurt murmurs as he shakes his head. “I’d better change into the appropriate ‘movie night’ attire then.” Kurt turns, disappearing into their bedroom moments later just as the timer for the pizza buzzes.

Ten minutes later Blaine’s back in the living room, settling atop of the sofa cushions and myriad of blankets while balancing his and Kurt’s plates. The opening chords of  _ White Christmas _ drift across the small space as Kurt joins him seconds later, sinking down into the makeshift bed with a contented groan.

“I knew I married you for a reason.”

Blaine quietly laughs as he passes over one the plates. “I bring you pizza?”

Kurt nods, “And your exceptional blanket-bed making skills.”

It’s later, Kurt resting against Blaine’s chest while the Major General fields questions about the lack of snow, before Kurt speaks again.

“I did, you know.”

“Hm?” Blaine turns away from the movie, shifting his attention to Kurt.

“Marry you for a reason.”

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

Blaine ponders the statement, relaxing further into the blankets (and Kurt) even as his tired mind tries to make sense of Kurt’s one-word answer. He gives up some time later, unable to focus on the engagement on screen.

“Kurt?” Blaine looks to his wedding ring, “What was the reason?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Kurt.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, but that’s not your reason.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, “it’s not. Are you sure you don’t want to guess?”

“Kurt.”

You know me, Blaine. Everything.”  Kurt releases a fond sigh against Blaine’s shoulder blade. “You know me well enough to know when to make a bed of blankets in the living room.”

Blaine smiles at the words before reaching for Kurt’s left hand. “So you really did marry me for my bed of blankets.”

“I guess I did.”

  
  



	3. 03 - Charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's late but have chapter 3! Work has been insane, unfortunately. Thanks to slayerkitty for her read through!

 

Kurt enters the coffee shop, breathes in the smell of espresso and sugar even as he smiles at the sight of Blaine near the front of the line. Kurt steps to the side to avoid blocking the door, wanting to enjoy this moment and simply watch Blaine. Kurt can see the hints of tiredness: Blaine’s hair holding a bit less gel (something Kurt enjoys even if the reason is less than ideal), his clothes loose-fitting in deference for comfort. 

 

It’s as Blaine reaches the counter than Kurt’s smile fades.

 

The barista - who looks far too exuberant for it being this close to finals - is leaning over the counter, his reddish-blond hair hiding his eyes from Kurt’s view. There’s a hint of a blush in his cheeks, though, and Kurt feels a flare of irritation.

 

Kurt’s well aware of Blaine’s charms, knows how easy it is to be taken with the kind smile and warm voice.

That doesn’t mean he appreciates over eager baristas recognizing that fact, too.

 

Blaine doesn’t appear to notice, although Kurt can’t be sure if the obliviousness is genuine or cased from exhaustion. Still, Kurt can’t help but glare when the barista continues to smile at Blaine - despite Blaine’s ring glinting from the glow from the Christmas lights strung over the bar - and he crosses his arms when the barista leans even further over the counter moments later.

 

There’s a second (a few, if Kurt is honest) where he debates crossing the small space and reminding the too-interested, too-eager (and now Kurt has a name) barista that Blaine’s married.

 

But Kurt doesn’t move.

 

The lack of a line gives him an unobstructed view of Blaine, and Kurt’s always been curious, especially when it comes to all matters of his husband.

 

And the persistent barista who continues to watch as Blaine walks to the other end of the counter.

 

As Blaine leans a hip against the side Kurt takes a moment to appreciate his husband’s profile; his hands tighten around his arms (he’ll have to iron out wrinkles later) when the it appears Too-Eager does too. 

 

Blaine, his forever courteous husband, turns when Too-Eager approaches, offering a smile (polite Kurt’s happen to note, not  _ real _ ) before speaking. The conversation continues, and with distance and the strains of Christmas carols preventing him from hearing the words Kurt focuses on the nonverbal signs.

 

Too-Eager, still annoyingly persistant, is leaning over the counter with a wide smile and a hand inching closer to Blaine. 

 

By the time Blaine’s order - two paper cups and something wrapped in wax paper - has been placed before him, the barista is leaning forward on the counter.

 

That’s when Too-Eager pulls the marker from his pocket and writes something on one of the cups. Kurt moves then, done observing.

 

“There you are,” Kurt wraps an arm around Blaine’s waist, keeps his voice sweet if a touch louder than necessary given their proximity. 

 

“Hi,” Blaine turns and his smile still makes Kurt’s breath catch.

 

“Hey.” Kurt refuses to glance at the barista, looks to the two cups instead. “Expecting someone?”

 

Blaine smiles and hums in agreement, “A special someone, actually.”

“Must be,” Kurt teases, “if you know his order.”

 

“Have for years,” Blaine answers. “Shall we?”

 

Kurt keeps his arm around Blaine, but uses his free hand to reach for the wrapped food on the counter, leaving Blaine to grab the coffees. 

 

A quick glance shows the barista staring at the counter, and Kurt ducks his head to hide his smile as he follows Blaine to an empty table.

 

Seated, Kurt carefully opens the wax paper, pulling out the still warm cronut from the bag.

 

He should have known, really.

 

Splitting it in half Kurt places one section in a napkin, reaching across the table to hand it to Blaine - 

 

Only to freeze, arm partly outstretched.

 

“Kurt?”

 

Kurt looks up then, meeting Blaine’s questioning gaze. “It seems you have an admirer.”

 

“What?”

 

Setting down the cronut, Kurt takes Blaine’s cup, turning it before holding it up for Blaine.

 

_ Meet me under the mistletoe? _

 

The markered message stands out against the green cup, as does the accompanying heart...and phone number. 

 

Blaine, now wide-eyed and speechless, stares.

 

“Kurt - I didn’t, I mean, you have to know I’d never -”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt lowers the cup and reaches for Blaine’s hand instead, raising it so their rings lay against one another. “Breathe.”

 

“He asked which school was responsible for my stress,” Blaine comments, “and then wanted to know about NYU. I didn’t -” Blaine sighs and briefly tightens his hold on Kurt’s hand, “I’m wearing my ring. It’s not like I hide it.”

 

“No,” Kurt agrees, “you don’t. But I’m not sure that matters much, to some people.”

 

“Kurt!”

 

“Some people,” Kurt shrugs. “Not us. Or maybe he didn’t see it. I know first hand just how distracting you can be.”

 

“I didn’t -”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Kurt agrees, “you were perfectly polite.”

 

A pause, and Kurt takes advantage of the break to sip his mocha. “Continuing your career in espionage?”

 

“I happen to love the outcome of my first foray,” Kurt teases, “and I was curious. He was very eager.”

 

“We were only -”

 

“It’s sweet,” Kurt comments over Blaine, “that you completely missed the fact that he was throwing himself at you; if he wasn’t so blatant I would almost feel bad for him.”

 

“Somehow I doubt that.”

 

“Hey now,” Kurt presses a quick kiss to Blaine’s knuckles, “I happen to know just how crushing it is to fall for your charms while you remain oblivious.”

 

“I didn’t  _ stay _ oblivious,” Blaine murmurs with a half-hearted eyeroll. “That’s what counts.”

 

“Luckily for me,” Kurt answers. “Dad threatened to rent out a billboard, otherwise.”

 

“No need,” Blaine smiles, “and your song was better than any sign; it’s only ever been you. You know that, right? You still move me, everyday. You -”

 

Kurt interrupts Blaine with a kiss, places his right hand on Blaine’s shoulder to keep him still. 

 

Blaine deserves a kiss worthy of his admission, and Kurt’s willing to forgo their ban on PDA to ensure he receives it.

 

And if he looked to the bar to time the kiss while a certain Too-Eager barista was looking at Blaine, well, Kurt has never missed a moment to flaunt the things he loves most.

 

.

  
  



	4. 04 - Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard, although for any of you reading RMtF, yes, I am still working on it, and yes, I do promise to finish it. :) Thanks to slayerkitty, again, for her review and support!

 

 

“I thought you were tired,” Kurt comments from the doorway to the kitchen.

 

“I did try to nap,” Blaine answers as he turns from the counter, “but I don’t think that’s going to happen today.”

 

“So,” Kurt begins as he looks around the kitchen, “you decided to bake instead?” A pause, and Kurt moves at the continued silence, taking in his husband’s downcast eyes and focus on the dough as he stops inches away. “Blaine?”

 

“Sorry,” Blaine offers a glancing smile before looking back at the counter. “I actually wanted to surprise you, but I ran out of time.”

 

“You -”

 

“I promised you cookies,” Blaine interrupts, “and those break and bakes we made last week at 3 AM hardly count.”

 

Kurt thinks back to when Blaine had stunned him at McKinley, when he’d been gifted a hand-made ring and vows long before their wedding.

 

“You’re missing out on sleep - necessary, comforting sleep - to make me cookies.” Fond exasperation colors his tone, and Kurt takes Blaine’s left  hand in his, ignoring the clinging flour. “That’s making me seem horribly selfish. So,” Kurt continues, ignoring Blaine’s murmur of disagreement, “how about I help. I think you deserve cookies, too.”

 

For a moment Blaine seems conflicted, but then he looks up and Kurt smiles, knowing he’s won. “I can’t say no to spending time with you, especially when we’ve been so busy.” 

 

Days of dropping into bed with barely a hello, falling asleep only to wake scant hours later to study - not to mention the occasional all nighter on campus - has left Kurt missing his husband despite their shared address.

 

“We have,” Kurt agrees as he releases Blaine’s hand and moves to stand on the other side of the island. “I’ve missed this.”

 

“Baking?”

 

Kurt fights a smile, letting out a sigh even as he reaches for the flour, carefully pouring it on the counter while ignoring Blaine’s teasing tone and smile. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

 

“Maybe not,” Blaine answers, “but you still married me.”

 

Kurt hums in agreement before shaking his head in mock confusion. “It must have been the lack of sleep,” he comments as he begins to roll out the dough.” I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“And here I thought you loved me.” Silence reigns for a moment, broken only when Blaine reaches forward, halting the movement of the rolling pin. “I’ve missed you, too.”

 

Kurt smiles.

 

Blaine brushes a kiss to his cheek before stepping away, turning on the small radio Carole keeps in the corner and softly singing along seconds later.

 

Kurt joins in when Blaine returns, trading lyrics as they fall into the easy rhythm of preparing the cookies. 

 

The chime of Kurt’s phone breaks the routine, and he futilely shakes the excess flour off his hands before pulling it from his pocket.

 

“Something important?”

 

“Sale reminders,” Kurt answers, glancing to the new text. “Apparently I get an additional 20% off if I order today.”

 

“Well,” Blaine comments as he glances to the clock, “that leaves less than ten hours. I’m surprised you haven’t already abandoned me for the thrill of online shopping.”

 

“Remember what I said earlier about your sense of humor?”

 

“Hm,” Blaine pauses, considering. “Matt thinks I’m hilarious,” Blaine teases, and Kurt resists the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Blaine’s overly flirtatious classmate who flirts as easily as he breathes. Luckily he also was indiscriminate with his attentions, as Kurt had witnessed the one time Matt attended karaoke night.

 

“If I remember correctly,” Kurt responds as he pushes down a reindeer cookie cutter, “Matt also thought the picture of the dogs playing poker was an artistic masterpiece.”

 

“So?”

 

“Blaine.”

 

“I’m just saying he appreciates my humor.” Blaine smiles and glances to his ring as Kurt returns to the island, “Maybe I missed out. Who knows.”

 

“Sweetie,” Kurt smiles, and gathers some of the flour into his hand.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Blaine laughs, even as he steps back, “not in your parents’ kitchen.”

 

“I think you’re forgetting that you were just talking about another man in front of me,” Kurt smiles, “and you know how I feel about winning.”

 

It’s later, when he’s curled up on the sofa with Blaine while  _ A Muppet Christmas Carol _ playing on the television that Burt enters the room.

 

“Boys.” Burt pauses the movie. “You know anythin’ about half the flour I just bought ending up in the trash?” 

 

Kurt ducks his head against Blaine’s chest and hopes the angle hides his blush.


End file.
